Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

The Contract	By : Turkaholic Category: -Misc Cartoons > Slash - Male/Male Views: 262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss. I do not make any money from this story

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Note: TRIGGER WARNING: Hunting, Animal Death, Gore, Implied Violence against children
This was originally going to be the first half of the next chapter, but I honestly feel like it should stand alone. That means the smut will be a chapter later than I hoped. Sorry!
It was... difficult to write. I'm not a fan of hunting, and I hate seeing animals get hurt, but this scene is so important I had to plough on through.
It -is- skippable if you're not up for it. There is lots of foreshadowing - some obvious and some maybe not so obvious, but you can skip it.
Thanks again for the support. I'm off to get some headspace after this.
Much love

Dew clung to the gently swaying reeds that lined the bayou. Mist curled slowly around the twisted roots of trees, like long black fingers rising from the depths of the water. The soft creak of crickets permeated the stillness of the pre-dawn along with the occasional, muffled flutter of birds' wings among the moss-covered branches.
The muted snap of a branch somewhere on the bank sent a brooding heron into flight, disturbing the mists momentarily as it ascended. Another moment passed, and a cluster of irises began to rustle. A pair of long, twisted antlers rose up cautiously from the undergrowth, followed by a pair of deep black eyes and a long, brown-dappled snout. The deer took a long, thoughtful look around through the mists and began to creep silently through the purple flowers, moving towards the water's edge.
There was the croak of a waking treefrog. The deer froze, one majestic hoof raised in the air, its breath visible as the rising sun began to peek through the distant trees. Its eyes darted nervously around the motionless bayou, one ear twitching towards the sound, and then it continued forwards, its feet slipping a little on the muddy bank.
It stretched its neck down and began to lap, sending soft ripples across the surface of the boggy water.
BANG
The sudden thump of many beating wings filled the previously silent scene. A spoonbill screeched from somewhere among the reeds. There was a soft, panicked cry, and the deer slumped forwards onto its knees. Its eyes fell still and dull, and it fell forwards into the water with a heavy splash. Silence followed.
The man stood up from his hiding spot, the still steaming barrel of the Winchester held aloft. He looked down into the undergrowth with a smirk.
"We got him, boy." He said gruffly.
Alastor uncovered his ears and stood up beside his father, eyes trained in shock on the now dead deer lying broken in the water. He pushed his spectacles back up his nose. A thin trickle of red was seeping into the water from the hole in its forehead.
"Pere, did we have to kill it?" he said lowly, voice shaking a little. The man's face darkened.
"You speak and I hear your useless mother talking."
Alastor swallowed hard. He wrapped a hand around his still bruised arm and massaged it without thinking.
The man shouldered the rifle and lurched forwards, sloshing through the wet mud until he reached the bleeding carcass. He grabbed it lazily by the hoof and dragged it back onto dry land, leaving a deep groove behind him. He threw it onto the grass and leaned down beside it, laying the gun carefully to one side.
Alastor continued to stand where he was, his eyes still fixed on the dull, surprised expression on the dead deer's face. His father turned to him. Alastor took a half-step back.
"Come here." He intoned. When Alastor didn't respond, his face descended into an ugly snarl. "Vite."
The boy tucked his hands defensively into the pockets of his woollen waistcoat and tentatively did as he was told, struggling with his short legs to step over the high weeds and gnarled tree roots. He came to his father's side, still hypnotised by the expression on the deer's face.
The man snorted and turned back to the carcass.
"It's time you learned what it is to be a man." He muttered, feeling at his belt. "Your mother would have you grow up to be soft, weak. Her perfect little 'ange'..."Alastor shifted uncomfortably as his father brought a vicious looking hunting knife from his belt and wiped it on the grass. "Not in my house, boy. You will learn. You will become the man I expect to see in my son."
"...Pere please, what-"
He winced as the man reached out and snatched his hand from his pocket, wrenching it roughly towards him. Alastor stumbled a little. The man pressed something cold roughly into his hand.
"Left to your dear maman, you would follow her with a little basket and flowers in your hair to buy groceries," his father said savagely as Alastor's brown eyes moved fearfully from the deer's dead face down to the hunting knife in his hand, "but a real man – a REAL man - only eats what he can kill himself."
The man let go and Alastor's small palm drooped suddenly with the unsupported weight of the weapon. He looked wildly between the knife, the deer, and his father. He was met with a stony, threatening glare.
"… I don't know – I don't know what to do." He said eventually in a small, nervous voice.
"Roll your sleeves up."
Alastor obeyed reluctantly. The now rising sun illuminated the greying bruises on his wrists and forearms. His father patted the wet grass beside him.
"That's it, good boy. Now. Time to learn how to butcher a fresh kill."
The sun had risen above the moss-laden treetops by the time Alastor finally sat back on his haunches, his arm aching more than any bruise he had ever had, his eyes stinging with sweat and suppressed tears. His woollen suit was sticky with blood, his arms and fingers shining red. Blood had splattered across his spectacles and dappled his dark, wild-eyed face. Before him sat the remains of a deer carcass, the blood pooled thickly around it turning the grass from green to deep, oily black.
Alastor's father was stuffing the roughly cut chunks of meat into a canvas bag. Alastor could taste metal as he clutched the dripping hunting knife, staring into the exposed remains of the creature that had stood innocently at the water's edge not so long ago.
"You still have a lot to learn, boy." his father buttoned up the bag and hitched it onto his shoulder, then grabbed the hunting rifle and stood up, his shadow blocking out the light as Alastor knelt, trying not to shake. "Those cuts could have been cleaner. Next time-"
"Next time?" Alastor couldn't help himself. He bit his tongue and nervously tilted his head upwards to look into his father's face.
"...Next. Time." repeated the man through gritted teeth, "You will do better, Alastor. Understand?"
Alastor nodded quickly. His father's face moved into a forced smile.
"Good. Now let's go home."
Alastor pulled himself shakily to his feet and started moving unsteadily to the water's edge, to the groove in the mud where the deer had stood, blood still dripping from his fingers. His father laughed sharply and snatched his slippery, aching wrist.
"No, little 'ange', you're going to wear that blood like a badge of honour. I want your mother to see exactly what you've done."
Alastor's heart sank. His father let go of his wrist and he held out a meaty palm. Alastor looked at the knife, and handed it back to his father. The man wiped it on the dew-laden grass and slid it back into his belt.
"Allez" He barked, and without a backwards glance at the blood-covered boy, began marching away from the waterside. Alastor blinked his stinging eyes and wiped away the forming tears now that he was safe to do so. Thick blood trailed across his face and into his eyes.
Half blinded, the little boy stumbled after the sound of larger, crashing feet, trying desperately to keep up.
Behind him, flies began to settle on the carcass, drawn to the smell of fresh meat.
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Contract